


Withered Roses

by orphan_account



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Sometimes I feel like a jerk when I write stuff like this, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That evening, when she walked into their bedroom and read the note from Angie, she didn’t cry. The pain in her chest was unbearable as she read the sentence again.</p><p>I’m tired of being second best. I’m sorry.<br/>Angie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Withered Roses

Peggy ducked as Angie threw another glass across the room, narrowly missing her head. It shattered against the wall and joined the other fragments on the ground, one piece cutting Peggy’s heel.

“I hate you,” Angie screamed, face flushed with anger. “You never listen to me!”

“And why should I when you act like an impotent child?” Peggy hissed. She moved away from the broken glass by her feet

In her fury, Peggy was unable to register the tears welling in Angie’s eyes and the slight tremor of her bottom lip. Her hair, formerly so perfectly curled, was out of place and her make-up was starting to smear from the outburst.

Downstairs, the party was still going on. Howard had invited them, as well as a few war associates, including Colonel Phillips. Despite her promises to stay by Angie’s side the whole evening, Peggy and Phillips had gone off to a quiet corner to discuss the upcoming agency. For a while, Angie had distracted herself by dancing with some of the other party attendees and playing card games with Howard. But eventually she started to miss Peggy and went off in search of her date.

_“—he was a good man,” Phillips said. “We all miss him.”_

_“I miss him every day.”_

_“Have you found anyone else?”_

_“There’s no one who can replace Steve.” Angie’s heart shattered at the words, however much she had been expecting them. Perhaps because the words rang true to her, as well._

_Angie cleared her throat, alerting them of her presence. “Hey, English. They’re servin’ dinner.”_

_“I’ll be there in a moment.”_

From that point on, the evening had grown more tense. Peggy was short and dismissive of her, especially whenever she was engaged in a conversation with an important politician or other official. Angie, furious with how she was being treated, started blatantly flirting with any handsome man she came across. That got Peggy’s attention quickly enough, and Angie could feel her staring darkly at her every dance with another stranger.

Eventually Peggy dragged her up the stairs to Howard’s study, slamming the door behind them. Very shortly after the argument started, Angie started throwing the scotch glasses on Howard’s desk.

“You’re a bitch,” Angie growled. “I hate you.”

“So you’ve said.” Peggy didn’t mean to be so cold, but seeing the Colonel had brought back so many old memories of Steve and the war. Peggy’s self-preservation techniques took over, causing her to withdraw inside of herself.

Angie locked eyes with Peggy, her normally bright eyes dark with anger. In an attempt to keep herself from throwing the last remaining glass, Angie was grasping the table. Her knuckles were white from clutching it so tightly, and her entire body was shaking, though whether that was through anger or sadness even Angie could not say.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

There was a long, terrible pause. “Yes.”

Unsure of what else to do, Angie laughed. It was a wretched sound, made worse by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Peggy was still too angry to reach out and comfort her, not that Angie would have accepted it.

“Yeah,” Angie cried, wiping her tears away with one hand. “You always will, huh? Your true love. Your one and only. I’m never going to compare, am I?”

“Angie—”

“Don’t,” Angie said darkly. “Just don’t. I need some time alone.”

Peggy didn’t try to stop her as she walked out of the room, nor when she called a cab and returned home to the mansion. That evening, when she walked into their bedroom and read the note from Angie, she didn’t cry. The pain in her chest was unbearable as she read the sentence again.

_I’m tired of being second best. I’m sorry._

_Angie_

* * *

When Peggy woke up, there was a stranger in her room. An elderly woman, close to her own age, sitting in the chair by her bed. It took her a long moment to recognize the woman, but there was something about the eyes.

“Angie? Is that you.”

A familiar smile appeared on her face, one Peggy hadn’t seen in over sixty years. “Hey, English.”

“You’re… You’re here.”

“I am,” Angie said softly. “Heard you weren’t doin’ so well.”

“You came back,” Peggy whispered, unaware of the fact she’d started crying. “After all this time you came back.”

“Of course I did.” Angie handed her a bouquet of violets, smiling shyly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

When Peggy woke up, there were no violets. Only withered roses.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it - because I'm assuming if you read anything tagged as angst you expected something like this. You can find me at rosebythesea.tumblr.com if you liked it!


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